


Bowing Out

by Laylah



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Romance - Freeform, Community: fictunes, M/M, Snuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-13
Updated: 2008-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ship’s gotten a good way out to sea now, and everyone’s had time to relax, to get comfortable and start to really enjoy the cruise. Fancy food, fancy music, all these rich bastards congratulating themselves on the party they’re having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowing Out

Dune leans on the deck rail, watching the moon’s reflection ripple on the little waves, listening to the thin strains of music drifting up from below decks. He’s smoking, mostly just out of a need for something to do, out of a kind of fascination with having habits that destroy things.

They’ll move on to bigger things soon. Him and Ladd. The ship’s gotten a good way out to sea now, and everyone’s had time to relax, to get comfortable and start to really enjoy the cruise. Fancy food, fancy music, all these rich bastards congratulating themselves on the party they’re having. Dune drags on his cigarette, hard enough to make the end glow bright. It’ll be good, taking them all down.

Solid heat presses him against the rails, and Dune drops the cigarette. It falls end over end, disappears into the dark water below. He doesn’t have to look back, doesn’t have to do anything but breathe in the warm spice of cologne over the sharp tang of blood and gunpowder. “Ladd,” he says. “Is it time?”

“Almost,” Ladd says, “almost time. I want to. So much. You understand, don’t you, Dune?” His hands are at Dune’s waist, curled tight in fabric, kneading, like a cat’s claws. His voice is a low needy purr that makes the hair stand up on the back of Dune’s neck. “All these people, and they think they’re safe, think there’s nothing here that will hurt them.”

“I know,” Dune says. He leans back, his head on Ladd’s shoulder, and Ladd takes the opportunity to bite his bared throat. “They all—ah—think they’re just here to have a good time. No idea they’re all, hh—” Ladd’s teeth have found the bruises his fingers left last night, when they were just leaving port. The pain starts there, sharp, and changes as it spikes down Dune’s spine, turns into a sweet ache by the time it gathers at the base of his cock. He can’t get any leverage, his back arched like this, or he’d be pushing against Ladd’s hips, against Ladd’s _cock_ , because he knows how this part goes.

“I want to kill them, Dune,” Ladd says, and his teeth scrape the line of Dune’s jaw. They’re going to do it tonight, no question. Ladd talked a little about waiting, how maybe it’d be more fun to do it if they let the passengers _really_ get comfortable first, but it feels like Ladd doesn’t have the patience and Dune’s okay with that, fine with it, glad of it. “They piss me off, guys like that, and I want to show them, Dune, show them how wrong they are.” He’s pushing Dune into the rails, harder, and when Dune pushes a hand down there Ladd’s cock is hard for—okay, it’s not for him, it’s never been _for him_ really, but it means they’re going to fuck. He squeezes, and Ladd _purrs_.

“You want to go now, huh?” Dune asks. He’s working on his belt with his other hand, clumsy, too slow. “Need a little something to take the edge off?”

Ladd hums, moans, helps Dune tug his pants open. “I’m going to kill you, Dune,” he says. He’s been saying that for weeks, low and sweet, the kind of tone you use with a girl when you want her to go someplace with you alone. “And you know it, don’t you? And still you’re here with me.”

The night air is cool on his skin, and Ladd’s hands are hot, rough, demanding. “Everyone dies,” Dune says. “I’d rather you do it than—ah, fuck.” It hurts, the way Ladd opens him up, but hurting is how you know you’re alive, isn’t it?

“Such devotion, Dune,” Ladd says. His fingers push deep, twist, and Dune arches up on his toes instinctively. “You’re so good to me. That’s why I brought you along, you know.”

“You like me, huh?” Hell, let Ladd worry about getting his own pants open. Dune reaches for his cock instead, because he needs something to balance out the burn of what Ladd’s doing to him. “I’m f-flattered, I really am.”

“Haa, you know just what to say, don’t you?” Ladd asks, his breath hot on the back of Dune’s neck. From the way he leans into Dune’s back, from the shift of cloth, it sounds like he’s pulling out his cock. “You know just how to talk to me, Dune, just what I want to hear.” Dune braces for the way this is going to stretch, burn hotter, but he’s hard for this, isn’t he? Ladd wants him, and they’re going to ruin this entire fucking ship.

He makes a little noise when Ladd’s cock pushes up his ass, not enough that anyone inside will hear him, just a soft hurting sound half swallowed up by the waves lapping at the hull. “Good, yeah?” he says, and Ladd’s arms wrap around him, hard and warm.

Ladd holds him tight, rocking inside him deep. “Yes, Dune, good, always good.” One of his hands slides up, wraps around Dune’s throat, his fingers splayed and hard. “I’m glad, so glad to have someone like you, someone who cares so much.” His hand is tightening. Dune swallows hard, tries to keep breathing. His windpipe aches. He’s still raw from last night. “I’m going to kill you, Dune, and you know it’s because I love you, don’t you? You know, you understand, you know me.”

Dune can’t see the water anymore. There are spots swelling across his vision, rust-red. He wonders if this is it, if this is the time Ladd isn’t going to let go. _I know_ , he tries to say, but he doesn’t have the breath left. The blood is pounding in his ears, and he can’t make out the words Ladd is still saying. He thinks he’s still hard, but his fingertips are tingling and he can’t feel—and the red spots bleed into each other, and he thinks, Ladd would love the way that looks, like blood spreading out—if he lives, if Ladd lets him live, he’ll try to describe it—he wants to—and the red is darkening now, tainted, bleeding to—he won’t live, not this time—bleeding to black—

 _everybody got to die sometime  
so take a bow  
might as well be  
might as well be now_


End file.
